The Temple That Waited
## **CHAPTER FIVE**##
The air inside the temple was thick — not with dust or age, but with memory.
It felt like stepping into a living thing. Every stone whispered. Every echo carried the hum of magic that had slumbered too long.
The staircase behind them sealed shut with a heavy sigh, locking them into a space untouched by light for centuries.
Obiora reached for his blade. Not the physical one in his belt, but the astral one that shimmered in and out of this world. A guardian's weapon, forged not of metal but of vow.
"Put that away," Anike said quietly. "This temple isn't a threat. It's a mirror."
"A mirror?"
"To the soul. To the truth we fear."
Obiora reluctantly let his hand fall. "Then why does mine already burn?"
---
The Hall of Echoes opened wide before them — a vast chamber with pillars carved from obsidian and silver veins glowing faintly beneath the floor. The ceiling was lost in darkness, but the stars above… they shimmered as if the temple had peeled back time to show them a different sky.
Anike paused at the entrance.
The symbols etched into the walls glowed as she stepped forward — ancient Nsibidi inscriptions, woven with celestial glyphs only she could read.
"They remember you," Obiora said.
"No," she whispered. "They're reminding me."
Of who she was.
Of what she buried.
---
They moved deeper into the temple, passing murals that shifted when you stared too long.
Scenes of past lives.
Wars.
Coronations.
Betrayals.
There she was — *Anike the Warrior Queen,* clad in starfire, crown ablaze.
And there — *Anike the Peacemaker,* walking barefoot through a field of bones, healing with touch alone.
Then — *Anike the Betrayed,* kneeling before the dark altar, her heart torn by two men: one in silver, one in shadow.
Obiora stopped.
"Is that…?"
She nodded slowly.
"Yes. You."
"And him."
The mural flickered. A memory pressed forward, but Anike shut her eyes.
"I'm not ready for that part yet."
---
The temple guided them to the **Chamber of Binding** — a round space with a single golden pedestal in the center.
On it lay a **mirror made of water**, suspended midair, rippling softly.
Anike stepped forward.
"The Mirror of Many Lives," she said.
Obiora tensed. "Anike… you know what that will do."
"I need to know everything. The full truth. My choices. My mistakes."
"You'll see every version of yourself — even the ones you regret."
"I've been half-awake for too long. If I'm going to stop Orunzo, I have to know what he wants from me. Why he keeps coming back."
Obiora stepped toward her, voice low. "You already know."
She looked at him. "Say it."
He exhaled. "Because you were once his. Before the war. Before the throne."
Anike didn't flinch. "And I ended him anyway."
"Not completely. That's why he's back."
---
She stepped into the mirror.
And the temple fell silent.
The water didn't ripple outward. It drew inward — swallowing her gently, like an embrace made of memory.
Obiora stood guard, sword in hand now, heart clutched tight.
Inside the mirror, **Anike remembered.**
She saw herself as a girl in the old empire — laughing in a garden, braids wild, mouth full of mango. She saw herself falling for a boy with starlit eyes and dangerous charm.
*Orunzo.*
Their love had been real — until it twisted. Until his thirst for eternal rule outweighed everything. She had watched him offer sacrifices, drain gods, whisper promises he never intended to keep.
She had tried to stop him.
He had cursed her instead — a soul split across lifetimes, always finding power, never knowing peace.
Until now.
She saw herself meeting Obiora for the first time in this life — in the bookstore, years before her awakening. How his eyes had softened her loneliness. How his laughter had stitched something inside her.
He hadn't remembered then.
But he had *felt* her.
And she, him.
Even through the Veil.
---
Outside the mirror, the temple shifted.
Walls realigned.
Wind howled from nowhere.
The **Watchers** stirred.
Tall beings, cloaked in moonlight and silence, emerged from the shadows — faceless, but not blind.
They didn't attack Obiora. They studied him.
Measured him.
Then one turned its head toward the mirror and **spoke directly into Anike's mind**.
> *"Heart of the Nine. Daughter of Stars. Why do you return?"*
Inside, Anike stood tall.
> *"To end the tether. To break the curse."*
> *"And will you choose love, even if it means relinquishing power?"*
She hesitated.
Her silence cracked the water.
Outside, the Watchers grew restless.
Obiora stepped forward. "Don't answer them, Anike. You don't have to choose—"
> *"He doesn't speak for you,"* the voice boomed.
> *"He does," Anike said. "Because I've learned… love isn't the absence of power. It's the reason to wield it wisely."*
The Watchers fell still.
The mirror burst upward in a spiral of liquid starlight.
Anike was cast out, floating midair, symbols glowing on her skin. Her eyes were silver, her veins filled with memory.
She landed gently.
Changed.
---
Obiora caught her as she staggered. "Anike—"
"I remember everything," she whispered. "Even the end."
"What end?"
She looked into his eyes, tears gathering. "I killed you."
His breath left him.
"In the last war… you stood between me and Orunzo. I hesitated too long. He turned his blade on you. And I…"
She swallowed. "I couldn't save you in time."
Obiora took her hand.
"Then this time, let's save each other."
---
The temple began to tremble again — not in fear, but in **response.**
Pillars parted.
A staircase descended.
And a voice, softer now, filled the space:
> *"Then step forward. Reclaim what was broken. And face what is coming."*
At the end of the staircase lay a door — carved from celestial bone, wrapped in golden thread, sealed with a single symbol:
**💫 — The Mark of the True Sovereign.**
Anike stepped forward.
The door opened with a single touch.
---
Inside was a chamber filled with light — no source, just presence.
Hovering in the center was a blade — long, elegant, ancient.
Not just a weapon.
A **key.**
The *Blade of Origins* — forged from the first star ever to fall. It was only to be wielded by the one whose heart was strong enough to bear the truth… and kind enough to resist misusing it.
Anike reached out.
The blade floated into her grip as if it had been waiting.
And it whispered:
> *"Welcome home, Ori-ọrun."*
> (*Daughter of the Celestial Path.*)
---
Obiora stood beside her now, his blade materializing again — not in defense, but in partnership.
They looked at each other.
Ready.
Empowered.
In love.
Then together, they turned back toward the world above — where Orunzo gathered forces, where allies would rise or fall, and where Lagos itself stood at the edge of remembering who she truly was.
The war was no longer coming.
**It had begun.**
---